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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29812323">My Heart Was Made to Be Broken</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fade_to_Ebony/pseuds/Fade_to_Ebony'>Fade_to_Ebony</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wasteland Runaway [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Alcohol, Angst, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Complete, Developing Relationship, Dubious Morality, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, F/M, Fantastic Racism, Heartache, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Violence, Non-Sexual Slavery, Physical Abuse, Pre-Canon, Slavery, Threats, Threats of Violence, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Violence, Violent Thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:54:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,246</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29812323</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fade_to_Ebony/pseuds/Fade_to_Ebony</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick glimpse into Gob and Tourniquet’s relationship before she disappeared.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gob/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wasteland Runaway [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764325</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>My Heart Was Made to Be Broken</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My song suggestion for the day is “Be Somebody” by <i>Thousand Foot Krutch</i>. Love you all and hope you enjoy. 💕</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gob tapped his fingers against the bar top listlessly, grimacing when his fingertips got stuck to the grimy surface. He sighed. He’d just cleaned the damn thing, but it had been another busy night; though, mostly everyone had filed out after last call. The clock on the far wall announced that it was 1:57am.</p><p>He collected his cleaning rag and doused it with a bit of vodka, idly circling his hand over the sticky counter. Three days. It had been <i>three days</i> since he’d last seen her. After two consecutive weeks of spending his evenings chatting with her, he’d grown a little too used to her company. He depended on it in a way; he had been so lonely before and she’d easily chased that feeling away. She spoke to him like he was a normal person. It was a pleasant break in the Saloon’s normal routine, the one where he was treated as the resident freakshow and punching bag.</p><p>Slowly, his mind wanders to the last night she had visited...</p><p>
  <i>“Hey, Gob!” she called cheerfully from the doorway. He immediately looked up from the drink he was mixing, smiling when she sauntered over to the bar, her hips swinging almost exaggeratedly. Gob couldn’t help but admire her. She always looked so beautiful, but tonight especially so.</i></p><p>
  <i>”Hey, Tourniquet!” he shouted back, finishing the Nuka and whiskey mix he knew she’d order. “Got your usual ready.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Oh, Gobbie, you’re so sweet to me.” She grabbed the seat at the very left of the bar, and when she sat, she leaned on the counter towards him to grab for the drink. Her faded tank top was torn, pulling dangerously low down her chest. Gob made to hand her the beverage, but when his eyes dropped, he fumbled, causing the drink to lightly splash her. She screamed and held up her hands when the cold liquid hit her.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Oh, God, I’m sorry!” he sputtered. He grabbed the nearest rag, which happened to be the one he used for the bar, and instinctively reached for her chest to clean her off. The rag barely brushed her skin before he realized what he was doing and dropped it with a mortified expression. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to-“</i>
</p><p>
  <i>But his apology was immediately cut off by a high-pitched laugh. Tourniquet doubled over on the bar, small hands grasping the dirty bar rag as she fought to regain her breath. Gob felt his face heat up, pushing the drink a safe distance away as not to spill any more of it. Tourniquet witnessed the gesture, her laughing fit reigniting at the nervous action. Gob managed an impish smile despite himself.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Then, a loud bang sounded from upstairs and heavy footfalls could be heard from above. Gob’s back went rigid as he frantically scrubbed the bar, trying to erase all evidence of what he’d done-</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“What’re ye doin’, ya disgustin’ fuckin’ zombie? Quit oglin’ the pretty lass before yer rottin’ mug scares ‘er off!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“S-s-sorry, Sir,” Gob stammered, speeding up his motions. Moriarty’s eyes narrowed. “Was’ the matter with ye, eh? Ye’re actin’ dumber than usual.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Nothing, nothing!” Moriarty grabbed him by the collar suddenly, yanking him back to see what he was fussing over. Gob caught himself, only to fall forward into the counter as Moriarty viciously backhanded him. Gob yelped as his forehead struck the edge of the bar, opening a wide gash that covered his face in blood.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He choked out a broken plea when Moriarty grabbed him again. “Ye’re wastin’ me product, boy!” the red-faced Irishman screamed, pulling his arm back to strike again-</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Stop!” Tourniquet shrieked. She’d ran behind the bar and grabbed Moriarty’s hand before he could swing. He glared at her before covering it with a fake smile that was far too much teeth.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Oh, I’m sorry for the zombie’s behavior, lass. He ain’t bothered ye, has he?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Tourniquet shook her head fervently. “No, he’s been really nice! Please, don’t hit him; I spilled the booze and I’ll pay for it, I swear!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>That seemed to be good enough for him. Moriarty let Gob go with a small shove that had him clinging to the bar for dear life. “This mess better be clean before I come back!” Moriarty warned as he stomped back up the stairs.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Tourniquet quickly pulled Gob up and around the bar to her now vacant stool. He groaned and clutched his head where a nasty migraine was forming, not caring for the blood. Gob felt rather than saw her leave his side, then jolted slightly when something cold dabbed at the cut on his forehead.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Tourniquet had found a clean rag and wet it with purified water. Gob grinned weakly at the thought.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“It’s actually better if you use irradiated water,” he muttered. A soft “Oh!” escaped Tourniquet’s lips and he heard her wring the cloth and pour something onto it before a soothing warmth was seeping into his wound. He sighed in relief as the bleeding trickled to nothing and the skin sewed itself back together. He slumped on his stool and relaxed into the soft body pressed against his back. Tourniquet’s free hand squeezed his shoulder and she left a kiss on his temple, pulling a gasp from him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Then the comfort of her body left him, and he heard the rag slap onto the bar before Tourniquet took a seat next to him, silently nursing her half-empty Nuka ‘n’ Whiskey. Gob watched her through his peripherals and fingered where her lips had touched, her pretty face twisting in thought as she took another sip of her drink.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“What’cha thinking about?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Tourniquet jumped when Gob spoke. She pulled the whiskey away from her lips and circled the rim of the bottle with her thumb.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I was thinking about my mother.”</i>
</p><p>Gob frowned. “Oh. Is she...?”</p><p>
  <i>“No, she’s not dead. But she used to treat me the way Moriarty treats you.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“... Oh.” Gob tried to look away, only for Tourniquet to tug on his sleeve, demanding his attention. She was looking at him now, her whiskey set aside and momentarily forgotten.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Why don’t you just... leave?” she asked quietly.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Don’t work like that. I owe a debt.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Now, Tourniquet was mirroring his frown as she reached for her whiskey again, but didn’t bother to take another drink. “He can’t come after you if you kill him.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>That statement floored him. His mouth fell open and he just openly stared, searching her face for a sign that she was pulling his leg. Her bright eyes darkened and she remained stern as she stared back.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Tourniquet, I can’t just...” he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “kill someone like that! Even without the whole town coming down on my head, it’s just wrong!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Tourniquet didn’t bother to retract her words. She turned her attention to her bottle of whiskey, downing it until she could finally see the bottom. When it was empty, she rose from her seat and left some caps by the bottle. Even at a glance, Gob could tell that it was too much.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Wait, you gave me too many-“</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Don’t tell Moriarty. The extra is for you.” Then, the door closed behind her. Gob had half a mind to chase after her. Something was off with her tonight. But of course, his cowardly legs refused to work, and he resigned himself to cleaning the bar before Moriarty returned.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He could always talk to her about it tomorrow.</i>
</p>
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